What Hides in the Dark
by lucidly
Summary: The kingdom of Elmondelet is in jeopardy, and the king has sent his two successors to Camelot for protection. Cecily and Arthur were childhood friends, but is it possible for their flowering friendship to evolve? Only 12 years old, Roland seems to be too wise for his age. One night, restless, he discovers something, hidden deep in the bowels of the citadel. (Arthur/OC, Arwen)
1. Dearest Uther,

**Summary: {Pre-Canon-ishish} When the son and daughter of King Rondale, the misleading ruler of Elmondelet, are sent to Camelot for protection, Arthur is enlisted as their protectors, to his own dismay. Cecily and Roland, her 12-year-old brother, are targets of Elmondelet's magic-users who plot to kill the both of them, leaving the kingdom with no heirs.**

**Meow meow, Good folks! This is a T-rated story, for future plotlines. It takes place a little before the first season, running into the 2****nd****/3rd. It's a commission-in-progress for a good friend of mine. Anywho, let's get this show on the road, shall we?**

**Oh yeah, I don't own Merlin, yadayada.**

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_PREMISE_

A man with graying blonde hair sits at his desk, furiously scribbling on a piece of parchment. He looks scruffy, with an unshaven face, along with unkempt hair. Although he writes quickly, his swirling script is legible and elegant, his letters remarkably straight.

_Uther;_

_ I ask you to do this favor for me. You are my kingdom's greatest ally and my greatest friend, and I trust that you will do this, for me._

_ In the battle against Magic, I will not lie to you. We, along with the other Kings of the Five Kingdoms, have made many enemies in this uphill battle against sorcery. No matter how many we behead and burn, they will come. We can hunt them like animals, but I have come to realize that we have been gravely mistaken; it is we who are the prey. Those with magic are relentless in their pursuit of a world where they may practice freely, and will stop at nothing._

_ Cecilia and Roland have been compromised, and I have spies in my kingdom, I know it. They watch my every move and are waiting to sink a knife into my back. I will not go down without a fight, but though my willpower shall never fade, my strength has. I am not the man I used to be._

_ I will not let these traitorous bastards touch my kin. My wife has already died, long ago. Death will not claim my heirs as long as I breathe. But that which I swear cannot be fulfilled here, in my kingdom. I no longer know who I can trust in Elmondelet, and my recent ventures have told me that._

_ That is why I send them to you. That is why I must have them in the shelter of Camelot._

_ My children are all that I have left. Not even my walls, as strong as they may be, can protect them. Under your watchful eye, my precious treasures will flourish._

_ Roland is 12 years old, and will be turning 13 in a few short months. I hope to be there for his birthday, although I am not sure if my attendance will be possible. He is an exceptional horseman, and I have been training him with the sword for many years now. Please do not be surprised at the levels of his sophistication, he often takes it to offense. My boy also likes to read, and he's very curious, as well. Roland does not throw tantrums, not recently, anyways. He will get along well with your son, and I hope that they will become friends as tight-knit as we are._

_ Cecilia you already know. She will be coming of age soon, and she is the loveliest flower in the meadow. She carries herself with such grace and elegance, just like her mother. She is beautiful, now more than ever, and I know that she and Arthur have already become familiar with eachother, although that was many years ago. Cecilia has taken up painting in the years that have passed. She isn't fond of swords, although battle is in her blood._

_ You know that I would protect Arthur as though he were my own. I ask that you reciprocate this, as my ally and my friend._

_ They depart in a week, and should arrive only a few days after this letter has arrived to you. Good friend, I ask that you do this out of humility on my own behalf._

_ Ron_

The desperate king rolls up the parchment, which he ties onto the leg of a large bird, whose eyes are predatory and bright in the twilit sky. The bird doesn't complain, although it most definitely is not accustomed to the extra weight pulling on its leg. "Go, go," Rondale urges, shooing the bird, which almost falls off the window ledge. "To Camelot!"

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**Please R&R, it helps me loads! Tell me what should come up soon, O.C. requests, etc; Stay tuned for Chapter 2!**


	2. Crossed Blades

**Chapter 2~ Yes, I know it's long, but my commisioner wanted me to write lengthier chapters, so this had better be up to your standards, Mindy XD. Almost 6,000 words. Oh, and dearest, readers, please do not worry, there shall be fluffy stuff in Chapter 2 :)**

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Cecily looks out from under her hood, which masks her thin face. All that can be seen are her lips, which are thin and delicate, with a pronounced cupid's bow. Her face is dead-set as she, on her dark steed, trots up to the gates of Camelot. The young maiden travelled to the far lands with a band of her personal guard, along with her younger brother, who would one day be the king of Elmondelet, when he came of age and her father passed. She shivers at the cold wind that blows at her, billowing in her robe, making her hood inflate.

The guards at their posts make no move to halt the posse, having been expecting them all day. In fact, the travelers were late.

As soon as they are within the walls of Camelot, Cecily looks up at the grand citadel, her gray eyes perturbed by the sheer size of it. Elmondelet's castle lacked in walls so high, although the beautiful mosaics and stained-glass made up for their lack of fortifications. As did their army, but Cecily would never make the mistake of mentioning their armed forces, in fear of Uther chopping off her head, mistaking the comment for a threat.

"Princess," says a knight, offering her his hand. He has a handsome face, although a nasty scar marrs his right cheek.

Cecily nods, thanking the man graciously as she takes his hand, stepping off of her horse with light feet. Roland, her brother, is helped off of his horse by one of their personal guards, who lifts him off by the pits of his arms.

They are led through the mazelike castle to the throne room, whose large area can hardly be lit by torchlight alone. The setting sun casts harsh shadows on the stone floor. Sitting in the three chairs posted on a large dais are the king, the prince, and the king's ward, the young Lady Morgana. Cecily was older than the dark haired girl by only a year, at most, she knew.

Cecily and her brother head the group, and the two, along with their guards, bow to the royal family. Roland and Cecily, too, are royals, but since they have little to no jurisdiction in this land, they decide to pay homage to it's ruler, who so graciously offered them shelter.

"Ah, Lady Cecily," Uther says, standing to greet his guests. "I have not seen you in many years." He places his hands on either of her shoulders, looking at her face intently. "You have grown into a fine young woman," he points out.

Uther moves onto Roland, keeling over so he can see eye to eye. "You must be Roland, yes?"

The boy nods, proudly holding his head high, although his eyes are easily read: he is nervous, not used to being in a situation such as this.

"Roland, it is nice to meet you, young man," Uther says, stretching out a hand. The boy grasps Uther's forearm, his hand just barely closing over it, while Uther is able to wrap his hand around the boy's scrawny arm. They shake, and Uther smiles warmly. "I am told that you are training to become a fine swordsman," he adds before he turns back, gesturing for Arthur and Morgana to join him.

"Cecily, you have met Arthur, I believe," Uther says. "When you were children, yes?"

Arthur and Cecily nod, the girl noting how much more handsome he has become since last meeting. Arthur always thought she was beautiful.

Arthur gives Cecily a smile as Morgana comes over, after introducing herself to Roland. Arthur kneels down by the young boy, saying hello.

Uther pulls Morgana over by the waist. "Morgana came here to Camelot maybe six or seven years ago," Uther says. "You can't possibly have met her," he adds, grinning.

Cecily nods. "I've been looking forward to meeting you," she says to the brunette, curtsying. Morgana dismisses this quickly.

"No need," she says, waving a hand. "I have heard many rumors about your artwork, and I have been quite eager to see some of your paintings, if you would believe it," says the young Morgana.

Cecily smiles. "Of course, I would be honored to show some to you," she says.

After some chatter, the guests are dismissed to their rooms, guards leading them up to the guest hall. Dinner follow shortly, in an hour, giving Cecily ample time to prepare herself. She is surprised when she hears a knock at her door.

"Come in," she calls from behind her privacy screen, starting to undo the ties on her corset, which was killing her.

A maidservant comes in, her light auburn hair in a braid. "I am here as your personal servant, miss," says the girl, still waiting in the doorway.

Cecily smiles, waving her in. "Nice to meet you," she says, beaming. "I'm Cecily," she says, introducing herself.

"I'm Hannah," says the maid, who quickly goes to help Cecily with her dress. 

Cecily looks striking in her gold gown, with the dark violet accents. The dress stands out against her white, unblemished skin, and the gown's length trails along the floor. The maid leads her through the castles, the many turns and staircases making Cecily's head spin. How would she ever learn her way around?

"Where are we going?" she asks Hannah, whom she follows obediently. Cecily hitches up her skirts as they descend yet another staircase.

"The Banquet Hall," chitters the young maidservant. "It's just to the left, down the hall," she adds, waiting for Cecily at the bottom of the staircase. Cecily quickens her steps and nods once she is on flat ground.

At the doors to the Banquet hall are two guards, positioned at either side of the doors, standing at arms with their hands on large spears. Cecily can smell the bounty of food waiting for them on the other side of the doors. As soon as the doors are eased open, Cecily finds that the lot of the people have already begun to eat, although those at the head table have not touched her food. Scanning along the room, she sees her brother seated in between Uther and Arthur. An empty chair was set in the middle of Uther and Morgana, and Cecily assumes it's for her.

She didn't notice how quiet it had become since she walked in. "Nice of you to join us, Princess Cecilia," says Uther in a congratulatory tone. "We were worried that you would not be able to come." Uther gestures to the seat next to him and Cecily takes it gratefully, allowing the king to push it in for her as soon as she's seated. They then toast, to the brotherly bond between the two kingdoms. Everybody downs their wine, including Roland.

They dine, their dinner served on large platters. The noise climbs back up, guests chattering and talking, drinking and laughing.

"What is it like, in Elmondelet?" asks Morgana as she sips her wine. Morgana has barely touched her food, save for her greens. She mainly picks at it with her fork, and Cecily is sure that Morgana will eat privately in her quarters later.

Cecily looks over at the other girl, thinking carefully. "It's very green," she starts. "The castle gardens are very serene," Cecily adds. "Lots of hedgery. The land is well-taken care of, and the people are happy." Cecily chuckles as she prods her fork into a piece of meat. "I suppose it a bit like Camelot, actually."

Morgana nods. "I have heard that the artisans in you lands are phenomenal," she says. "That they voluntarily give up the fruit of their trade to your father."

Cecily nods. "Yes, that's quite true, I suppose. Many of the citizens have spare time on their hands," she expresses. "Not many of them are so dedicated to my father that they travel to the kingdom to deliver their gifts, but many do offer up some of their practice."

Morgana nods, holding onto every word. She had never been too far from the castle since she had come to stay there. Her young heart longs for adventure.

Cecily pushes her plate away, too full to eat any more. Her chicken was eaten til its bones were bare, and the steak that had been prepared for her was already settled into her tummy, which was begging to be released from her god-forsaken corset.

"I heard that you are good with a sword," Arthur says to the younger boy, who's plate is nearly clean. His father had told him to talk with Roland, saying something about how strengthening their ties would make them good allies when they were one day crowned as the kings of their lands.

Roland looks up from his lap, which he had been staring at for awhile, completely zoned out. "I dunno," he says, not interested in talking to the young prince, who presses on converssation.

"I don't suppose you would like to join me for training tomorrow," Arthur says, casually masking his open invitation. "The knights and I will be doing some swordplay. You might learn a thing or two," he adds.

Roland mentally rolls his eyes, wishing the prince would spare him of his petty attempts of friendship. "I would be delighted," says the 12 year old. "What time shall I meet you?" he asks, flipping his head so that his dark hair is whipped out of his face.

Arthur smiles a cheeky grin, flashing his sharp canines. "I'll be there all day," he says. 

Cecily knocks on the door to her brother's room, a male attendant answering the door. "Princess," he says, bowing his head. "Come in."

Cecily enters the chambers, surprised that her brother is being fitted with chainmail. Arthur stands to the side of him, his arms crossed and lips pursed as he watches the younger boy.

"What's going on here?" Cecily asks, surprised.

"Prince Arthur and I are going to be training together this morning," Roland says as his manservant places a shoulder guard on the boy.

"That doesn't require full chain mail," says Cecily in a worried voice. "Roland, I can't have you getting hurt..."

The young prince stands taller, holding his chin up. "Cece, you know that I am old enough to handle myself. When I am king, I will not have you looking over my shoulder and bossing me around," he declares.

Both Cecily and Arthur are taken aback by his sudden surge of confidence. Both of them open their mouths to speak, but Arthur's words come first.

"Roland, I don't think that that is any way to treat a woman, especially your sister," Arthur replies, his eyes glancing over at Cecily for a moment. "You know that when you become a knight, and a king, that you must treat all girls nicely."

Roland does roll his eyes this time. "Whatever." He begins to make his way out the hall, his servant following after him, making sure everything is fit nicely.

Cecily accompanies him, at his heels. She snatches his arm, stooping down so that they are at eye level. "You listen to me, Roland," Cecily chastises. "We are here as guests. You respect the king and the prince and Morgana. You show respect for the people who sow the ground that makes our dinner." The young boy looks guilty, his eyes dropping from his sister's shamefully.

"I'm sorry, Cece," he mumbles.

Cecily nods. "I forgive you, Roland," she says as she draws her only sibling in for a quick hug. "I know that you will be king someday, but you must always remember that it is you who serve your subjects before they serve you," Cecily says as she pulls away, giving her brother a reassuring smile. Arthur comes up beside her, putting a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"Let's go; those knights may be growing impatient," Arthur chides as he leads the two out into the hall.

Cecily watches as the knights circle around her brother and Arthur, who have both donned their own mail armor. The two shake arms before they back away, swords drawn. Earlier, Arthur let her brother pick a sword from the armory, and even though most of them were much too heavy for her brother to pick up, Arthur brandished a skinny shortsword that looked about right for a young man his size.

"Show me what you've got, Prince Roland," Arthur teases. Cecily notes that he acts different in front of his mates. He seems cockier.

Arthur has already decided to go easy on the younger boy, who can barely hold himself in the heavy armor.

Even though he is weighed down, Roland is the first to strike. Arthur is the bigger target here, which means that Roland would have to strike low, because the prince would have trouble guarding himself from his midsection down.

Arthur hops back, narrowly avoiding Roland's blade. A cheer goes up from the crowd and she hears someone behind her. It's Roland's servant, who has placed a chair right by her legs. "Sit," he says, gesturing to the seat. Cecily nods, sitting down as she watches the skirmish.

Roland breathes heavily, whipping his hair out of his sweaty face as he charges at Arthur again. Arthur cleanly parries his blow, smirking. "Roland, I'd have thought that you'd be quicker than that," he mocks. Perhaps if he got the pre-teen agitated, then he would pick up his game.

Roland surges forward again, but Arthur steps out of the way. It's almost like watching a bull charging at some poor creature who had invaded its territory. Eventually, Arthur has the younger boy at the tip of his sword, both breathing erratically. The knights cheer for their future king, and Arthur smiles as he lowers his sword.

"Again," huffs Roland. Arthur looks at him quizzically, raising an eyebrow. "Without the armor," he says.

Looking at the crowd, Arthur shrugs as he waves over his personal servant, a brown-haired boy with a mousy face. They go to the tent, and Roland trails behind him with his own attendant.

"Let them play," a voice behind her says.

"Sire," Cecily says, bowing her head. Uther shakes his head.

"That's not necessary," he chuckles. Morgana is at his side, as usual, and they have chairs pulled up for them as well.

They sit idly as another fight starts, this time with two knights. Both wield swords nearly as long as they are, and Cecily watches in fascination as the two begin an elegant dance, almost as if it were planned. By the time one is deemed the winner, Arthur and Roland are ready to fight again.

It's amazing, the difference in height between the two. Roland is nearly two heads shorter than Arthur, but Cecily glows with pride as Uther points out his fondness in her younger brother's confidence.

"He will make a fine king someday," Uther remarks.

Cecily doesn't respond, not aware of whether or not he is talking about Arthur or Roland.

The match begins, and Cecily watches as Arthur and Roland circle eachother, both wearing light cotton shirts that ripple when the wind blows. Roland looks so much smaller compared to Arthur.

The boys circle around eachother, and Arthur steps forward every once in awhile, twitching his hand as if he were going to make a move. His teasing makes Roland flinch every time.

But in the end, Cecily's brother is the first to strike, feigning left but then quickly slicing to the right. Arthur falls for it but retracts at the last second, the tip of the boy's sword tipped with blood. Cecily stands to protest, but Uther places a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait," he says, and Cecily obeys, although she looks worried.

Blood blossoms from Arthur's side, although it doesn't seem that the wound is too deep. The boys continue with their swordplay. Roland weighs the sword in his hand again, and his arm is starting to feel sore, so he switches it over to his left, handling it awkwardly.

Arthur, seeing his chance, doubles forward, and Roland reacts slower, but he manages to parry Arthur's attack, their swords crossed in an X. Taking advantage, Arthur flicks his wrist, disarming Roland. The edge of his sword bites into the boy's wrist, and a sliver of red appears. Roland grimaces, but does not complain as his sword falls to the ground.

Arthur chuckles as his sword finds its way to Roland's neck yet again, the tip kissing the hollow of his throat. Roland raises his arms in defeat, and they both shake hands before walking off. "Fetch these two a physician, immediately," Cecily hears someone in the crowd say. She looks doubtful when they escort an old man with graying hair onto the field, leading him into the tent where Arthur is.

"That boy is a swordsman of repute," Uther murmurs. Cecily look back at him, unsure if the comment was for her or Morgana. "Excellent stance and figure," he adds, turning to Cecily, who is sure that he is talking to her, now.

"My father taught him much, and still has more that he wishes to pass on," Cecily says. "Roland has been training since he could close and open his fists," Cecily says.

Uther looks at her closely. "I don't suppose that you also know how to work a sword," he says, looking at Cecily with a curious look. "I'm sure that your father would not have you practice with the men, but Morgana is in need of a partner..."

Cecily shakes her head. "I do not often practice with a sword," she replies. "I wouldn't know if I was good or not." Cecily shrugs, taking as deep a breath as she can while wearing her tight bodice as she sees Arthur and Roland emerge from a tent.

"Nice job, Roland," Arthur says, his arm draped around the much younger boy. They seem to have grown fond of eachother, and Cecily can even see that Roland has warmed up to the Prince of Camelot. Cecily can see where the crisp edge of Roland's blade sliced through Arthur's shirt, and through the holes she spies bandages wound tightly to his body. Roland has white dressings bound around his wrist, and her face drops. Cecily was unused to seeing her brother hurt, but at least he was taking it well.

Seeing his sister's dismay, Roland ducks out from Arthur's arms. "It doesn't hurt," he says, holding it out for Cecily to observe. "Gaius made it less painful. He said it should heal in a few days."

"If you're really all right, I don't suppose there's a problem," Cecily says, her eyes lingering on the bandage. She gets up, patting down her skirts. She bows her head to the king, despite his warning her not to. "Excuse me," she says, getting ready to depart. "I'll be in my chambers."

She leaves hastily, and Arthur is about to re-dress into his chainmail when Uther catches his arm. "Go with her," he says, jerking his head in Cecily's direction. "The poor girl will probably get lost," he adds. Arthur nods obediently.

Roland stays with the king, who invites him to sit in the chair Cecily once occupied. They watch another pair of knights fight, chattering about their stances. 

Cecily is unsure of which way to turn once she finds her way into the main castle. She looks right, then left, before deciding to make a right, ascending the staircase. She swears that her room was on the third or fourth floor.

"Wrong," chides Arthur, who sneaks up from behind her, his arms behind his back.

Cecily chuckles, thinking that he's playing with her. "Really? I wouldn't think so," she says, continuing up the steps, her skirts hitched up so that she doesn't trip.

"Really," Arthur says, catching her wrist. "This is the way to the physician's chambers," he states matter-of-factly. "You're supposed to make a left turn, go down the second hall on your left, and then go up the stairs," Arthur recites, his eyes shut as he tries to remember the directions. "Then you would –"

Cecily looks at him smugly. "Were you _following_ me?" she asks with a curious grin.

"I-uh," Arthur starts to say, but he just tugs her towards him. "Let's go, this way to your chambers," he says with a smile that tells Cecily that he knows he's been caught.

She follows him reluctantly, and she feels his hand slide from her wrist so that it catches onto her hand. He leads her along, and Cecily tries to remember the way to her room again, although it keeps slipping from her mind.

"So," she starts to say as they round the corner, entering the familiar guests' hall. "You and Morgana?"

Arthur pretends to not have heard her as he opens the door to her room, letting her walk in before he closes it behind him. Cecily takes one sweep of the chambers to see that Hannah is nowhere to be found.

"Me and Morgana?" Arthur says, laughing as he picks up an apple, tossing it in the air with a cocky grin. "Are you joking?"

Cecily wonders why he invited himself into her chambers. "Yes, you and Morgana," she counters. "She's beautiful, and you two basically live together."

Arthur gives her an amused look. "Morgana is a pretty wench," he jokes. "And I think of her as my sister," he adds. "My father had once hoped to match us, but once he found out that it would've been a hopeless attempt... well..." Arthur gives her a charming smile.

Cecily nods. "I see," she says. "Well, you should be going soon," she says, gently placing her arms on his shoulders and forcing him out, but he doesn't budge.

Arthur trails a hand down her jaw, making her heart flutter. "You're beautiful too, you know," he says with a smirk when he sees that the maiden is blushing. Taking a chance, Arthur lowers his head to hers, his fingers under her chin, tilting Cecily's face up as their lips brush softly. Their chemistry is electric, and it surprises Cecily so much that she pushes away, looking down shamefully.

"Cecily, I –"

She cuts him off. "Arthur, I don't think I'm ready for this," she says suddenly.

He grasps her shoulder, stooping so that they are at the same height. "Ready for what, Cecily? _Us_?" he asks, his eyes searching hers. "We've known eachother for years," he says. Cecily pauses for a moment, thinking. _"I've liked you for years,"_ he adds finally. Before she can say anything, he lowers his head to hers again, and this time, Cecily doesn't pull back from his kiss, which is gentle, but still yearning.

When he sees that she hasn't pulled away, he leans into it, his hand placed at the small of her back. Cecily can't see it, but his face is smitten. 

Cecily quietly eats her dinner, spooning her soup into her mouth. She hears Hannah scampering about her room, checking that everything is in order.

"I trust that the food is to your liking," Hannah says as she fluffs the pillows.

Cecily nods, swallowing down the warm food. "It's delicious," she responds, looking at the bountiful meal set in front of her.

Roast chicken and pig, colorful salads, arrangements of fruits, along with a selection of alcohols and juices. The smells are overwhelming in the room, which is so much smaller than the Banquet Hall. The concentrated scents alone fill Cecily.

"If you'll excuse me, my lady," Hannah says as she bows, departing, but Cecily stops her.

Cecily clears her throat. "Hannah," she starts to say, patting her belly. "I think this is much too much food for me," she points out, gesturing to the food surrounding her.

Hannah bows her head obediently. "I'll have it sent back to the kitchens immediately," Hannah says with a curtsy.

"No, no," Cecily says. "That's not what I meant." Pointing to the seat across from her, Cecily gives Hannah a sly smile.

"My lady..."

"I insist," Cecily urges, as Hannah reluctantly takes a seat. "I would rather have you eat it than have this feast go to the swine," she grins.

Hannah smiles, her eyes saying a silent thank you as she digs into her food. She eats modestly at first, but she eats a full serving, heartily. Cecily wonders whether or not the girl has even had anything to eat, since she has a big appetite.

"This food is so delicious," she says with a full mouth, and Cecily chuckles. "Much better than the plainmeal we have to eat," she adds, washing down her meal with the red wine.

After dinner, Cecily excuses Hannah before grabbing her white nightgown. She walks over to the privacy screen, unlacing her bodice and stripping herself of her skirts as she pulls the soft fabric over her head, slipping her arms through the sleeves. She could undress herself. The task was simple enough. She wasn't very fond of appearing nude when it wasn't necessary; the only times being when she was bathing.

Grabbing the covers of her sheets, she pulls them over her head, her small body enveloped in red. 

Arthur and Roland are off again, training. Cecily can't stop thinking about yesterday, and how she felt with Arthur's lips pressed against hers. The mere thoughts make her blush, and her heart flutter like the wings of a caged bird.

"Cecily!" calls Morgana. "Eyes up!" she orders. The other girl is in a defensive stance, her back hunched and her sword ready to strike. Morgana wears tight-fitting trousers over her boots, along with light plate armor over her bright green shirt.

Cecily straightens up, her sword in her hands as they continue to circle eachother. Morgana lunges forward, but the attack is easy to spot, and Cecily steps out of the way before parrying and disarming the brunette. "Sorry," she says with pink cheeks. "Instinct."

Morgana shakes her head, smiling. "No! That's a good thing." She picks up her sword, moving back towards the edges of the circle she had marked in her quarters. All of the furniture has been pushed back against the walls and windows to make room for them. Cecily insisted that they practice away from prying eyes, fearing embarassment.

"O-Okay," Cecily stammers as she rolls her shoulders. "Thank you?" she says, her tone quizzical. She was still unsure if that was a compliment, in her book.

Morgana does not wait. Morgana was a temperate and well-behaved girl, with manners and a nice smile to match; on the other hand, when she has a sword, she is impatient, and Cecily knows that the other girl will not hesitate to cut down her enemies. She feigns a strike to the right before throwing the sword to her left and slicing downwards, hitting Cecily's shoulder with a clang as metal meets metal. "Come on, Cecily!" Morgan urges. "Fight back!"

Cecily thought that Uther was joking when he said that Morgana needed a partner for swordfighting. Apparently, he wasn't.

Morgana swings low, hoping to get a tap on Cecily's shins but Cecily jumps up just in time. She now knows why Morgana told her to wear trousers instead of a dress.

Cecily is about to dive forward and land a blow on Morgana's hip when there's a knock at the door. Morgana excuses herself to answer it.

"Oh, Guinevere," she says with a surprised tone. "Princess Cecily and I are practicing until lunch, so you are free of your duties until then," Morgana says in a sweet voice as she dismisses her servant. Cecily catches a glimpse of the mocha-skinned servant.

Morgana re-enters the ring, unsheathing her sword. She glances at it for a second before nodding. "Let's continue, shall we?"

Cecily gets into her stance, nodding to tell Morgana that she's ready.

As they continue with their play, they occasionally chat, but most of it is grunting and curses as their swords cross, over and over. Morgana is clearly much better than Cecily, but the blonde princess shows that she has some level of swordsmanship, even though her knowledge of the terminology is slim.

Once they're finished, Morgana excuses herself to go and find her servant, leaving Cecily in her chambers, alone.

Humming softly, Cecily runs her fingers through her hair, as she sits at the table, staring boredly at the walls. It was only her second day at the castle, and already she felt welcome. She fingers the holes in her belt, which laced around her waist twice, and she pulls out the sword in the scabbard.

It was actually her own weapon, not something borrowed from Uther's armory. The blade shines like silver, with etchings in blue and violet ink. It wasn't just a weapon; it was a work of art. Making everything beautiful, in Elmondelet, reminded the citizens to respect their surroundings and their jobs.

Cecily holds it in her hand, balancing its weight. When Arthur walks into the room unannounced, Cecily drops it out of surprise.

"Hell, Arthur!" she cries. "You live to scare me!" Picking up her sword, she sheaths it, walking over to him and giving him a light shove. "God, would it kill you to knock?"

Arthur looks amused, smirking. "Actually, yes, it would." He gives her a crooked smile and a peck on the cheek before striding in. As far as he was concerned, nobody was naked, so he would go in as he pleased. "Where's Morgana? I'd've thought that she would be here..."

"This is her room, you know."

Arthur scrunches up his nose. "You don't say?" he laughs. "I think I know my way around this castle better than you," he chides.

Cecily rolls her eyes. "Morgana's off looking for her servant," she answers finally, sitting back down. "Where's my brother?" Cecily asks. "After all, you two seem to spend _every waking moment together_," she says in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Eating lunch, with my father," Arthur replies coolly. "And, on the matter of lunch," Arthur pauses, hearing the door open. "Would you join me?"

Morgana and her maid enter, followed by an entourage of servants who carry platters of sandwiches, cooked chickens, and porridge. "No no, Arthur. Today is my day," Morgana says. "You entertained her yesterday with your swordplay." Morgana sits in the seat across from Cecily, her jaw set. "Now shoo," she dismisses him, to his childish protests.

"We can have lunch tomorrow, Arthur," Cecily says in a sincere tone. "I promise," she adds.

He huffs defiantly, but turns on his heel before leaving the room.

"Ladies Morgana and Cecilia," says the servant girl, bowing, "lunch is served."

"It's just Cecily," replies the blonde, with a smile as she takes her seat, eyeing the big meal. Was the food here always so grand?

Morgana smiles, sitting up straight in her seat as the servants excuse themselves except for her handmaid, who dutifully stays by her mistress's side. "Cecily, this is Guinevere," Morgana says in a warm tone, introducing the two with a smile. "She's been with me for quite awhile now, but we get along nicely, don't you think?" she asks Guinevere.

The maid smiles, waving politely. "It's just Gwen, actually," she says. "Guinevere is a mouthful," she says with a shrug.

"It's a beautiful name," Cecily responds. "It's very nice to meet you, Gwen."

"The pleasure is all mine," Gwen says with a friendly smile, tucking a stand of her curly brown hair behind her ear.

Morgana smiles at how smoothly everything has been going. "Let's eat," she says, almost excited. 

Uther and Roland dine in silence, except for the occasional sound of silver scraping on silver, or a cup being placed on the table. The wood table isn't too long, but it still looks empty, with only two seated at one corner, leaving the rest of the table bare. Two guards stand watch, although it's obvious that they're not paying attention to the non-existent conversation between Uther and the young prince.

The Council Chambers have been cleared of the chairs that loomed up and over all who entered, replaced by a dining table with enough room to comfortably seat twelve. The room is lit with the sunlight that filters in from the windows, along with the occasional candle.

"Your father," Uther says as he scarfs down his chicken, "he is well, I trust." The man sets down the meat, or what remains of it. The bone has been picked clean, save for some meaty parts that he does not care to nip at.

Roland, not expecting this conversation, looks at him, frozen, before he nods, swallowing down his cider. He hates the taste of wine, although he knows to drink it at large gatherings, so as to not look immature. "Yes," he says, tasting the apple nectar still in his mouth. "He's not ill, if that's what you are suggesting," Roland adds. He takes another bite of his sandwich.

"Of course not," Uther says, although he had thought that the king was sickly. "In his letter he made it sound very urgent, and I had feared the worst."

Roland guzzles down more of the apple drink, washing down the sandwich. "My father is still a wise ruler, although he grows old," Roland replies. _As do you_, he adds in his mind, not daring to say the harsh words, although he is aware that Uther knows this, too. "He has been preparing me to rule for awhile now, fearing that he has run out of time. But my father is as strong as he was two decades ago, and I, nor my sister, will allow him to die."

Uther nods, taking in the boy's words. "I see." He gulps down his wine, but, finding the chalice empty, he sets it aside. "So young..." he says out loud. "I'm assuming that your sister will be the one to handle the throne until you come of age?" Uther asks.

Roland pauses, thinking. He speaks, slowly and surely. "_I am the prince of Elmondelet._ It is I, and only I, who has the right to the throne." 

Later that night, Roland cannot go to sleep. His eyes are open, scanning every corner of the room fearfully. For some unidentifiable reason, he feels uncomfortable.

The serving boy, Lewis, blew out all the candles tonight. Last night, he had courteously, or accidentally, left a few burning. Now darkness is everywhere. In the corners, on the floor, dancing on his walls. It sounds like the wind makes his windows rattle, or is that the sound of his teeth chattering?

So Roland creeps out of bed, seeking the warm shelter of light. But all of the shadows in his room follow him out into the hall, taunting him relentlessly. Which room was his sister in, again? The boy is too scared to remember. He hears a voice whispering his name, and he runs from it, terrified. Would there be no end to this torment?

After running around the moonlit halls, he finds his sister's room, which was was next to his all along. The dark plays tricks on him, and he hears the night mock him. He opens the doors carelessly and is relieved that most of her room is lit, although the blue glow of the moon is still eerie. "I can't sleep," he says, closing the door behind him so nothing can drag him away from his sister.

Cecily gets up, rubbing her eyes as she motions for him to come closer to her. She was used to this happening; no matter how mature her brother pretended to be, he had an uncanny fear of the dark. "Come here," she says as she gives him a sloppy hug using only one arm. She kisses his forehead and tells him to go to bed as he climbs in next to her. Soon enough, they are both sound asleep, although Roland can still hear the whispers in his dreams, beckoning him down, down down.

_"Roland..."_

_"Roland..."_

* * *

**Pretty spooky, huh? Well, Chapter 2, technically 3, is speeding towards you. And I promise, there shall be some fluff. :) Please R&R, your motivation helps me write. Don't be afraid to send me your suggestions, corrections, etc;**

**Toodles~**


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